


Never Forget

by Blue_Night



Category: Football RPF
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 20:02:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2745260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Night/pseuds/Blue_Night
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mario thinks about what he has lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Forget

**Author's Note:**

  * For [funfan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/funfan/gifts).



> This is my first posting in this fandom and I'm nowhere near my comfort zone. Just a try, I hope you like it!
> 
> Dear funfan, I love your stories and I love your answers to my comments and my first try in this special fandom is dedicated to you, because, without your stories, I surely would never ever have thought about leaving my comfort zone... I really hope that you like it!
> 
> No beta, because my poor beta has so much stories of mine to read... so please be gentle with my English.

_“You have no idea how beautiful you are.”_

Mario will never forget those words Marco said to him, before he went out of the door, back then, before Mario left Germany with the national team to fly to Brazil and win the FIFA world cup.

He stood at the same window where he stands right now and looked back at the door, watching Marco leave. The blonde stood there, smiling at him with a regretful expression on his face before he turned around and walked out of the door to Mario's room in the house of his parents.

Mario raises his arms and leans against the glass of the window, resting his forehead against them, staring out of the window without seeing anything.

He will also never forget how it all started, almost two years ago. At first, there were only innocent and brief touches during the games, the joyful embraces of teammates after another match they had won together, pats on the shoulders, posing for the photographers with their arms wrapped around their shoulders, friendly and playful pushes and shoves when they were teasing each other, playing a game together with their play stations.

They were friends and it seemed to be so natural to share the hotel-room when they were on the road with the team. Everybody knew they were friends and no one second guessed their friendship.

Mario remembers as if it had been yesterday both of them lying together in the bed, reading comics or playing nintendo, giggling like little boys, tossing their pillows towards each other.

And then, they were fighting and Marco held him down, pinning him on the mattress, tickling him.  
Marco laughed and arched to get rid of his friend and then, their lips met by accident.

Mario will never forget that first kiss.

They both froze, staring at each other with eyes wide in shock, but with their lips still pressed close.  
It felt weird and strange, kissing another boy, but damn it, it also felt so right, so good. They parted, but when Marco pressed his lips against his own once more, Mario kissed him back with the same hunger, pulling Marco's hard and well-trained body over his own. They kissed and kissed, shyly, but almost desperately, with lips, teeth and tongues and Mario couldn't think of anything else than this hungry mouth claiming his own. Nothing else happened than Marco kissing him senseless and he himself kissing Marco like someone dying of thirst until they finally fell asleep.

The next morning, they acted as if nothing had happened at all, but the next time they shared a hotel-room, they kissed again and this time, it went further than only kissing. Mario still can feel their hands tugging at their shirts and boxer-shorts, stroking naked skin, hesitantly at first, but deeply fascinated, his own tender fingertips ghosting over Marco's tattoos, caressing them reverently. They kissed and stroked, rubbing their heated bodies against one another, panting, gasping, nails digging into warm sweaty skin until the whole world exploded into a million glittering pieces.

Mario will never forget all of these precious moments when it was just the two of them, snuggled close together, kissing, laughing, stroking, whispering words of longing and passion into each other's ears, not wasting one single thought at the world outside their little universe.

They were so happy and so close, but Mario also remembers their fear to get caught, to be outed and separated, to lose everything they had – and most of all their beloved football.

They hid in the dark, themselves, their feelings, their romance and their fears. The moments of happiness became less and the moments of grief, sadness and anger became more and more. They fought with each other and made up and fought again, until Mario couldn't take it any longer and left.

Strange enough, things between them became better again when Mario was far away in Munich. Everyone hated him for his betrayal – everyone but Marco. Marco stayed by his side, supported him and when Mario went home to Dortmund to visit his family, he always managed to see Marco, too.

Mario remembers their first time so clearly, he still feels Marco's strong-muscled body moving slowly and gently above him, he still hears their moans and gasps, the murmured words of love and tenderness and he still smells the scents of that special night when he gave himself to Marco unquestioningly.

It was the first night after Mario's change to Bayern München when Marco visited him in Mario's new home. They were so in love and Mario thought that their love would last forever and an eternity. Mario couldn't imagine anything that would make him lose Marco or his love. Now, he knows that he has been wrong. The one thing they both wanted so much, they both dreamed about for so many years was the one thing that destroyed the only thing that meant more to him. He only didn't know that it meant more to him until he had lost it.

Time went by and they were so happy to play the world cup together, to fly to Brazil and try to win the cup, to be together for weeks again, to sleep in the same room, the same bed every night.

But then, Marco became injured and their dream they had dreamed together was over within seconds, shattered to nothing but sadness and helpless anger.

Mario tried to comfort him, told him that there would be another time, another chance, but now, he knows that he has been wrong. There won't be another time or another chance, never, neither to win the cup together, nor to be together again.

Mario didn't know, didn't want to know when Marco stood there in the door, looking at him after that special and wonderful night that it had been their last night, too. Marco just stood there for one long moment, smiling at him, a small wistful smile, his eyes filled with longing and regret and said:

_“You have no idea how beautiful you are.”_

Mario opened his mouth to say something, but Marco simply turned around and left and Mario watched him leave in silence and confusion.

Mario pushes himself away from the window and frowns as he notices the wetness on his cheeks. He wipes his tears away and looks at the letter Marco wrote him in his fluent handwriting.

He doesn't need to read the letter to know what is written upon it, he has read the few words countless times.

_'I'm sorry for hurting you, Mario, but I can't be with you any longer. I wish you all the best for your future. I will always love you, but I just – can't. In love, Marco.'_

Mario stares at the letter and the ink flows a little bit as one single tear drops down on the paper. He has won the world cup, he even has been the one to shoot the final goal.

But winning the cup wasn't worth to lose the best thing he'd ever had – Marco's love.

Mario turns around and looks at the door, seeing Marco standing there before his mind's eyes and hearing him say these words to him, before Marco left him for good.

No, Mario will never forget how it felt to be loved.


End file.
